fix you
by lilypads
Summary: becausing endurance is all they have left, really. —sasukesakura


**notes**: it's a little choppy and angsty, but when is my stuff not? i wrote this a few days ago after reading the latest chapter and started to wonder whether things would turn out good. (probably not).  
**notes2**: it's wishful thinking, guys. bare with me.

**title**: fix you  
**summary**: because endurance is all they have left, really. -—sasukesakura

_i will take the dark part  
of your heart into my heart._

—perfume genius.

.

.

.

.

It's funny, she thinks, how fate could possibly throw more obstacles after everything.

Three whole days and two dreadful nights. That's how long it took to claim victory. Sakura hardly remembers much of it, really. All that remains is the scars that remind her that it was real and it was raw. As those days pulled into nights, she would shake and tremble but she would never protest. Nothing would ever hurt more than being left behind.

So she endured; with blood on her skin and a fire in her veins.

She endured.

For them, for him, for duty, for Konoha, _for her. _

And she supposes the nightmares are worth it now, because it's over and she doesn't see blood on her skin anymore and she doesn't taste it in her throat, a lump so large she was sure it would eventually choke her. And now that she's washed (_and washed and washed and washed_) she doesn't feel so dirty. Maybe the nightmares will stay, maybe the scars will never heal—but everyone she cares about, they're still breathing.

And she endures.

(but fate surely loves to test her patience).

* * *

Sakura never imagined she would be so close to him.

Something childish and innocent stirs in her as her fingers push back his damp hair, there's a static current that runs wild through her body, but then it settles and it's numb again. He hasn't seen daylight in a while. She wonders whether he'd even care. If he dreams of something darker, something much less real.

He's been out since they won. His body, exhausted and tested as it was, fell slump the minute they won. She saw, as if in slow motion—his intake of air, dragged so slowly through his lungs as his legs buckled. Sasuke hit the ground, his knees cut and his katana clattering in a different direction. She's sure she's never bolted so quickly.

Naruto was there instantaneously as well. Team Seven at its foundations, built on weary trust and shit communication skills. But, even after all this time, no matter how much Sasuke wronged them both, no matter how many times he proved how selfish he was, they never gave up.

And Sakura has never gone back on her decision.

She's endured, she's persevered, she's hurt and she's felt worthless. But damn it all to hell if she hasn't learned from it.

Sakura pulls her fingers from his matted hair, the tips of her fingers lightly grazing the bandage across his eyes. They're not his—those eyes aren't the ones she remembers, an inferno of red and rotten. A blaze of fury that ate across land, burned up flesh and forgot all about silly little bonds. These eyes aren't Sasuke's and Sakura thinks it's probably best.

It gets harder as the days drag out. Sometimes Naruto stumbles in and other times she's alone. He doesn't move much in his sleep, but Sakura has always known this. Missions told their stories, their routines. Sasuke has always been a dormant sleeper, almost as if he's dead. Briefly, she watches closely at the rise and fall of his chest.

Silly, she thinks, as his body continues to pump oxygen but he hasn't made a sound since—

_since that piercing scream that erupted from his lips, tumbling over mountains. _

Sakura blinks, swallowing tears she's refused to shed.

After all this time, she'll endure.

* * *

Five days come and go.

He's weak, really weak. A tonne of nurses, including herself, have been working nonstop to keep his body alive and well. But even as he rests he's still horribly complacent. Still refusing to be fed or waited on, Sakura often wonders whether his self-conscious mind is just as bitter as he is.

It's usually late in the night and early in the morning when there's any sign of response.

She's there, always.

Something compels her to stay. Sakura hasn't figured it out yet—responsibility, affection, guilt. She doesn't know. Perhaps all, perhaps none. But she stays and she barely sleeps in case he wakes, in case his breathing abruptly stops. The terror that paralyses her as she begins to imagine it is enough to root her to this lumpy chair anyway.

Around 4.15 his fingers twitch and the veins in his neck throb. Sakura stays still and watches; these moments, she hardly moves. The memory of those very same nimble fingers, once strong with revenge, clamping around the hollow expanse of her throat is still fresh. And it keeps her still, so deadly still she may as well be dead too.

His head is thrown back, the moonlight pouring across his pale neck. She swallows thickly and looks away, scared she'll reach out to him.

Sasuke hisses loudly, evident pain coursing through him and she can feel her heartbeat hammering against her rib cage—_get up, help him! help him. fuck. _Her hands wrap around the steel of the chair, knuckles chalk white and teeth grinding against teeth. Another hiss that echoes throughout the dark and empty room and Sakura jumps to her feet.

She's afraid to admit that she's crying.

(_can you endure?_)

And then she runs out of the room and down the hall. She'll get someone because—because this isn't a nightmare anymore.

* * *

"I—I got someone else," she stammers, staring hard at her hands.

Naruto's mouth falls open like he's about to chastise her, like he's about to voice his complete bewilderment. And then she looks up at him, her eyes round and so lost that his mouth shuts firmly, all disappointment concealed almost immediately.

Sakura doesn't miss it.

She's not blind.

"He'll be okay," Naruto says because what else is there to say?

"Yeah," Sakura nods, chewing her lip. "Yeah."

* * *

She hates herself for it.

Hates how easily she can fall back into this weak routine, but then she hears him screaming through her dreams, his neck tight and his eyes bleeding everywhere. And then she remembers that it's a lot easier to pretend it never happened. He'd never know she sat there every night, waiting so anxiously for a movement that didn't involve pain.

He'd never know how it ached; the two sets of eyes she remembers, how can she tell the difference between a monster and a stranger? Sasuke is everything she loves and everything that can destroy her. He's here in Konoha and he's still alive—but why is she still so frightened of him? When they fought side-by-side, she had never felt so fulfilled.

And then he fell and his screams, they seeped into her skin and how can she ever wash away something like that? No matter how many baths or showers she has, his ringing voice always finds a home in her dreams, turning them black and bruised. She swears, she swears its never hurt as much as it does now.

* * *

As she returns, plucking up courage, she walks down an empty corridor, her footsteps loud against the floor, Sakura hides her shaky hands.

His room is dark and the only light is the barely concealed moon. The moon hovers in the sky, illuminating every little piece of him. She notices he's been changed, fresh bandages and clothes. The only thing that hasn't changed is him. Sasuke's fingers are slightly curled, his chest still moving with life. It's too late to turn away.

She walks right up to him and stands over him, her eyes drinking him in, allowing herself to remember.

There's flashes of images—most of them are laced with some fraction of hurt, but some of them she looks back on fondly. How long has it been since he smiled? If he ever knew she was here, if he awoke right now and she was watching him, would he turn away like he always has? That thought no longer seems to ignite hurt like it used to.

Strangely, she's become so familiar with the idea that it barely stings.

Sakura takes a deep breath and entwines her fingers with his. His skin is warm.

She stays like that for a little while, selfishly indulging in him whilst he slowly begins to recover. Two weeks have passed and the world is only beginning to return to some semblance of normalcy, whilst Sasuke sleeps through it all, wholly unaware to the wounds that still have yet to recover.

His fingers suddenly sharply clamp down on her own causing her to stifle a gasp. Sakura tries to forcibly detach herself but this only seems to make it worse—the harder she tries the stronger the grip becomes. Her heart flips inside of her as his nails dig into skin; her entire arm becomes alive with electricity and she wants to rip herself away from him because—

"Sasuke," she says breathlessly, hoping hoping hoping, "Sasuke... stop."

—_she's not scared. she's not anymore._

Sasuke's grip loosens but she doesn't remove her fingers, instead (with a gust of bravado) Sakura squeezes his hand and stares right into his bandaged eyes.

He's alive.

He's okay.

He's Sasuke.

He's enduring.

Sakura collapses to the floor and takes his hand in both hers, resting her forehead against them. She smiles, tears streaming down her face. "You idiot," she chokes out, a laugh and a sob strangling her words into incomprehension.

* * *

Sasuke wakes the next day.

Honestly, Sakura wanted to inform them that he was awake that night but something stops her.

She thinks it's probably because he wouldn't want anyone to know about it, to know that he clung onto her so desperately, but really, she just wants to keep the memory for her own.

When she enters his room with Naruto and Kakashi in tow, there's an air of tension that seems to suck the breath from her lungs. Sasuke is propped up on cushions, bandages removed from his eyes—those eyes she'll have to get used to—and head turned towards the window. He doesn't look at them until Naruto talks.

"Bastard," he says with barely concealed excited, "you're finally awake then? Took you long enough."

Sasuke removes his eyes from the window and stares at them all, his face blank. He grunts something unintelligible in return. There's a pregnant silence that feels all to familiar but so different at the same time and then—then Naruto laughs. The same hearty laugh he always has laughed and it's so contagious, Sakura starts laughing too.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and chuckles.

They laugh and laugh and she doesn't even know _why _she's laughing but the slight upturn to Sasuke's lips is enough to spark something akin to unconditional happiness within her.

"You're annoying," Sasuke says quietly and then adds, "and _loud._"

Naruto walks right over to him and claps him on the back, sending Sasuke pitching forwards, glaring. "Still a complete prick, then?"

And Sakura watches, her entire body filling with undulated joy and warmth and love and every fucking possible feeling under the sun because here they are, Team Seven, _together. _And she can't ever express how incredibly wonderful it feels to know that they're all together and home. Finally.

* * *

Seven months.

He's fully recovered and on constant watch.

But he's home.

Sakura sits and watches as he picks up rubbish by the lake, his skin sweaty from the heat. He never complains really and he still doesn't say 'please' or 'thank you' and even with those eyes, Sakura can't help but think that she wouldn't have it any other way.

"You missed a spot," she calls cheerily, pointing towards an empty can.

Sasuke turns a glare on her and she grins. He picks it up with pointed emphasis and throws it in the bin bag, taking extra effort to turn around and give her another icy look. She just beams bigger and gives him a encouraging thumbs up. Of course it's disregarded.

"If you're not going to help then what exactly are you doing here?"

She stands up and walks over to him, standing so close she can feel the heat of his body. "Just watching."

Sasuke grunts and turns around but she doesn't miss the smirk.

They've endured.

And they'll continue to endure.

_Together. _


End file.
